Interzone 185 [2003-01] (Bogof39)

68 Pages·12.4 MB·English

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COMING NEXT MONTH
New stories by Eric Brown, Martha A. Hood
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interzone
inter
_ Editor & Publisher
' David Pringle
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CONTENTS
Vignettes by SMS — isory Editors.
i John Clute
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_ Judith Hanna Fiction
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A Swift Review of 2002 A Comeback Reader
Dear Editors:
Thanks for another good year. Stories Dear Editors:
I particularly enjoyed this year include: As an irregular reader in the past, I
picked up issue 184 with slight trepi-
1. “Blue Water, Grey Death” by
dation, having taken a studies-
Dominic Green from issue 175 (I
enforced break from the world of sf. I
won't look at dolphins in the same
was reassured to note that the quality
way in future).
of your contributors, as well as the reg-
2. “If Lions Could Speak: Imagining ular columnists, has not changed in
the Alien” by Paul Park from my two years of non-reading. Daniel
issue 177 (frankly, showing off, Kaysen’s “The Comeback Season”
but successfully. Well, I think so stood out as my favourite, with a
anyway). dense, action-packed feel to it. Could it
be ripe for stage adaption, taking place
3. “Teaching the War Robot to Dance”
in only one room as it does? I also
by Tony Ballantyne from issue
enjoyed Julian West’s “Vita Brevis Ars
178 (highlight of the year for me).
Longa,” which neatly voiced, albeit
4. “Blue Portal, Parts I and II” by Eric obliquely, the underlying current of
Brown from issues 180 and 181 (I cynicism that surrounds much artistic
liked the anticipation! Having to endeavour these days. “Hole in The
wait for weeks to find out what Wall” was a testament not only to the
happened next. More multi-part imagination of Zoran Zivkovic, but also
stories please). the skill of the translator in so effec-
tively rendering the story into English.
5. “To Become a Warrior” by Chris
“The Happy Gang” by Neil
Beckett from issue 180 (good,
Williamson was a story that I also
solid story-telling. Mr Beckett is according to my lights. Particularly
enjoyed, except for one small error. The
creating a very interesting world good non-fiction features include:
main character in the story was a Cor-
or series of worlds in these sto-
1. The appreciation of James White poral Hawthorne. In reality, Corporals
ries).
by David Langford in issue 176 in the British Army were and still are
6. “Time Spent in Reconnaissance” by (which had a good cover too). junior NCOs (Non-Commissioned Offi-
Mat Coward from issue 181 (made cers) and as such are not addressed as
2. The interview with Kim Stanley
me laugh out loud on the train). “Sir,” but as “Corporal” or “Corp.” In an
Robinson by Nick Gevers in issue
otherwise very well-researched story
7. “Old Tingo’s Penis” by Geoffrey A. 177.
this detail jarred for me. I was also a
Landis from issue 181 (is it really
3. The interview with Christopher little disappointed generally by the
that easy to invent a myth?).
Priest also by Nick Gevers from small amount of future-set science fic-
8. “Posterity” by Christopher Evans issue 183. tion in the magazine. A great deal of
from issue 182 (a short story with I generally enjoy the features by the work in this issue seemed to me to
just about everything you could Gary Westfahl as well as Nick Lowe’s be either historical or contemporary
want really). “Mutant Popcorn.” The controversy horror/fantasy (“Frog Level,” “We're All
invariably kicked up by Evelyn Lewes in This Alone”), or even fairly straight-
9. “The Whisper of Discs” by John
also generally proves entertaining. forward paranormal mystery (“Hole in
Meaney from issue 183 (I now
Keep up the good work and I hope you the Wall”). Call me a sucker, but I like
want to read his novels. What a
have a good New Year. a bit of spaceships, or crumbling
good writer).
Nick Dale megacities, etc etc. Sometimes it feels
Looking at that list reveals that Lancaster to me as if sf can be slightly afraid to
issue 181 was the best of the year do what it does best, and have a go at
guessing what the future will be like. I
still intend, however, to get the next
Price Rise issue.
David Goodman
We are sorry to have to announce a price rise for Interzone. The
Neil Williamson, author of “The
cover price goes up to £3.50 with effect from this issue, and the
Happy Gang,” replies: “It’s nice to get a
subscription rates go up commensurately (but please note it’s letter of encouragement like this. I
still cheaper to subscribe, whether for six issues or 12, than to apologize for the slip in historical
accuracy, and have to confess to hav-
buy the magazines singly). This is in fact our first cover-price
ing been a little nervous that I might
rise in six years, since issue 116, February 1997. Postage and have missed something, given that I
many other costs have crept up since then, and no doubt will rarely attempt historical fiction. I did
do research, honest — but some things
continue to do so. We’ve had to tighten our belts in recent
slip by you. One of the advantages of
months, and various bills have been increasingly hard to meet, tackling the kind of future-based sci-
so we hope you will forgive us for the price hike and stick with ence fiction that Mr Goodman is a fan
of is that no one cries, ‘that’s not how it
us for the months and years to come. Thanks in advance to all
was!’ He may be relieved to know that
readers for their support. David Pringle, Editor I’m currently writing a far-future
planetary sf tale.”
interzone
aired here last week). She talks about case, why not include a film on video
Ted Chiang
“the extended pilot of a new series,” so worth seeing instead?
I would like to know for sure which A. Dorrance
Dear Editors: version she watched, just to satisfy my Danville, Pennsylvania
Many thanks for Neil Jones’s review curiosity...
of Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life Marcel de Graaff Editor: My own impression is that
and Others in issue 184. Since the Netherlands Nick Lowe does enjoy many of the
interview with him (a few issues pre- films he reviews — it’s just that he takes
viously), I had been searching for Evelyn Lewes replies: Sorry for the an ironic tone towards most of them.
more information on him. lack of clarity. I had no prior warning As for reviewing videos or DVDs, well,
His story “Understand” can be that this was on, so was watching it Nick is not keen. He prefers the big
found on the Infinity Plus website at without video taping. Furthermore, the screen.
http:/ /www.infinityplus.co.uk / sto- credits, as is too usual nowadays, were
ries /under.htm, and according to the squashed up to allow promotion of
Evelyn Lewes, Yet Again
Amazon website the collection will be other programmes, so I couldn't read
available in paperback next summer. them. I don’t even remember which
Steve Connolly channel I watched it on, although as it Dear Editors:
Cirencester was a Hallmark production, it seems How glad I was to receive September’s
likely that it was on Hallmark. At the Interzone... that was, until I realized
time, Hallmark were not listed in our that we had yet another column by
Dinotopia
television magazine at all, their web- Evelyn Lewes. The self-confessed
site was mute on the subject of Dino- reviewer who does not watch more that
Dear Editors: topia, and the Henson Creature Shop one or two episodes of a multi-season
I was wondering if you could clarify site was not working. It is now clear programme before writing it off as rub-
something for me with Evelyn Lewes that what I was watching was the bish. Who admits that she does not
regarding her review of the first mini-series, as it was repeated over research any of her articles and whose
instalment of Dinotopia she watched Christmas on Channel 4. It is also prose it so bad that even I have to take
in JZ 184. ’m not completely up to clear that it gets very much better after issue with it. So, as you can imagine, it
date about matters, but I do know the first episode, although the acting is was with some trepidation that I read
that the SciFi Channel in the US had still awful. I hold out little hope that her article and, blow me, she actually
a four part mini-series of that name the ensuing series will be any better. had something interesting to say.
recently, which was a huge success I The problem was how she said it. If
believe. So successful in fact that it you have a point, Evelyn, keep to the
Trashing?
was adapted to become a “regular” TV point. Do not descend into name-call-
series (aired in the last months; this ing and long pointless discussions
series is not quite so successful if I Dear Editors: about individual episodes that you did
recall correctly), with a completely dif- Peter Garratt’s letter about Evelyn not like of a series that you happen to
ferent cast. It is not clear to me which Lewes’s TV reviews in issue 183 like. Put your point across and back it
Evelyn is writing about, though I sus- makes a point that also applies to the up with concise, accurate information;
pect it to be the mini-series since it “Mutant Popcorn” film-review column. add your own opinions but realize that
would be too soon for the TV series to Much as I enjoy the trashing of films, they are only your opinions and are
be shown in the UK (Sky One) my purpose in reading reviews is to not gospel. Who knows one day you
already. I did not read the book so I find something worth watching. So I might actually make a decent
cannot comment on her comparison was grateful this month that Mr Lowe reviewer — though I doubt it.
between the two. In fact, I still have to found two films to praise. I appreciate Ian Sewell
watch the series (I’ve taped it when it the selection is often poor, but in that [email protected]
A recent party in Brighton brought together several Interzone stalwarts.
Left ro right, Tom Arden, Liz Williams, Matt Colborn, Rebecca Locksley (a visiting Australian fantasy novelist) and Molly Brown
7
4
J[:eN0eI2yZ0 eUigg
January 2003 |
C
Orke
Paul Di Filippo
T= price of gasoline had fallen to 25 cents a gallon, plexion conjured up comparisons to exotic orchids, snow
and a pair of low-end Nikedidas would set you tinged by a sunset and milk tinted with cherry juice. As
back only ten dollars. You could enjoy a three- we waited for the arrival of our meals, the Market’s del-
course meal plus dessert at many of New York’s better icate hands cradled her drink — straight sparkling water
restaurants for a prix fixe of 15 dollars, and get change in a champagne flute — so sensually that I thought I
back from a 50 when purchasing a top-of-the-line Palm might climax just from contemplating her fingers.
Pilot XXII, complete with video-conferencing features. All I had to do tonight and over the next several days
The nation’s trade deficit had been wiped out, and the was to interview the closest thing the world of 2022
global economy had just posted its sixth consecutive boasted to an actual, breathing goddess, for a profile in
quarter of five-percent growth. The entire continent of Neuvo Vanity Fair. And so far I had barely managed to
Africa resembled California during the Gold Rush. New stutter out my name, shake her warm, soft hand, and
millionaires were being minted in nearly every country croak out my dinner order. Not an auspicious start.
faster than a Martian settler could duck underground at I tried to recapture my experienced journalistic
the news ofa solar flare. demeanour. But my voice still quavered as I attempted
We were living in boom times such as the most bullish to look steadily into the Market’s grass-green eyes.
speculator of no other era had ever dared dream of, even “Uh, Miz Smythe—”
after consumption of a fifth consecutive bottle of Veuve “Please, Glen, call me Adamina.”
Cliquot, and we owed it all to the Market. The Market’s voice matched the rest of her, resonant
The Market’s name was Adamina Smythe. She was 19 as church bells and sexy as black coffee in bed. I caught
years old, utterly untouchable, and she was sitting across a whiff of her perfume, a subtle floral scent.
from me. “Adamina, I really look forward to, um, working with
Built like the ultimate offspring of some clandestine you on this feature. But are you sure my intrusions won't
supermodel-breeding programme, the Market wore a red interfere with your other duties?”
dress that was more suggestion than fabric. Her long She smiled broadly, and I had a chance to fall in love
thick platinum hair was pinned up by a couple of delicate all over again with her perfect teeth. “Of course not. Face-
and tasteful tortoiseshell clips, with a few stray tendrils to-face interaction utilizes only the smallest fraction of
wisping her brow. Her face, all subtly intersecting planes my processing power.”
and arcs, evoked both madonnas and starlets. Her com- “So right now—”
6 interzone
“Right now I’m overseeing approximately one-point- then said, “As you described, I first came to the world’s
seven-nine-to-the-twelfth-power simple stock transac- attention as a castaway. Of course, for this part of my
tions around the globe, and arbitrating more than one own life I have only a few nebulous personal memories,
million buyouts, splits, [POs and other equally complex being too young at the time to retain much. So what I’m
procedures. Not to mention mediating billions of E-bay recounting is based on my later reading and viewing of
deals. And having no problem conversing with you.” news items. One of the smaller cruise ships, en route
“Incredible. And when you sleep — ?” from Bermuda to Liverpool, happened to spot a fragment
“A partial software persona based on me runs the show.” of an unknown vessel floating helplessly. Onboard the
What could I say in the face of this nearly unbelievable makeshift raft was a single survivor of whatever grim
declaration of stone-cold fact? Flowing through the gor- fate had overtaken the vessel. A two-year-old girl, hor-
geous woman within arm’s reach (and how I suddenly ribly sunburned and dehydrated. Me.
wanted to reach out and touch her, as if to partake of her “Once rescued, I quickly regained my health after some
immense and regal charisma) ran the entire planetary common treatments for malnutrition and overexposure.
digital economy, without causing her any visible sign of Apparently I was in good spirits as well, regaling the
strain or effort. No wonder talking with me took less of ship’s passengers with lots of eager childish chatter in
her resources than breathing. some kind of weird pidgin tongue. But as to my name or
All I could do was pick up my glass of wine and swal- parentage or the cause of my being adrift, I could offer
low a hefty slug. “You’re sure you won't share some of this no information. And no hint of my vessel’s name or port
bottle? It’s quite good.” of origin was ever found.
The Market’s manners matched her beauty. “I’m so “When we docked in Liverpool, the media were wait-
sorry, Glen, but I simply can’t indulge in alcohol or any ing in droves. Authorities from the British government
other artificial stimulants. The perturbations in my brain took me into custody and regulated all my contact with
chemistry —” the public.”
“Oh, right, of course. One little depressant — ” “This was when you acquired your name as well, cor-
“_ could trigger a Depression. Yes, that’s a familiar rect?”
quip.” “Yes. At first the media tried out a dozen different tags
I felt like an idiot. How often must she have heard that on me. ‘Waterbaby. ‘Little Mermaid.’ ‘Baby X.’ “Miracle Kid.’
lame joke, and a million like it? Even granted the pro- But eventually I ended up taking the family name of the
tective and exclusionary elite social bubble she existed in, official nanny they had assigned to me, a policewoman
I was certain that she must have overheard more than her named Joan Smythe. Joan had had a son named Adam,
share of comments treating her like some sort of freak. who had died young, and so she dubbed me Adamina.”
Along with feelings of awe and adoration, the Market had “A neat serendipity, given your future career.”
to contend with the hatred, envy and fear of the masses. The Market looked winsomely solemn. “Who knows
But if any such thoughtless barbs had ever hurt her, how these earliest childhood incidents influence anyone?
she failed to exhibit any scars or bitterness. Serene, com- But even though I have only a vague recollection of her
passionate, she apparently took no offence at my presence, I’m very grateful to Joan for being a bastion of
gaucherie, and the awkward moment was dispelled by calm and affection during this period, and I still see her
the waiter’s stealthy delivery of our salads. regularly.”
After we fussed a bit with napkins and salt and pep- “T take it any peaceful eye of the storm did not last
per shakers, I took the opportunity of asking, “Would you long.”
mind if I started recording our conversation now?” “No. As my story spread around the world, things
“Of course not. I’m eager to respond to any questions quickly became complicated. A lot of meanness and greed
you have for me.” surfaced.
Eager to respond. I forced my mind away from an “What country did I belong to? Almost immediately,
extremely vivid but highly unprofessional line of thinking. thousands of people from scores of nations claimed I was
If the Market had ever been allowed to have a boyfriend, their missing daughter, offering more or less plausible
I knew the lucky bastard would have worn a perpetual stories to account for my mid-ocean abandonment. But
grin. I placed my PDA midway between us, and began. DNA tests disproved all their claims, and my origin
“Let’s talk about your amazing childhood.” remained utterly unknown. Then various governments
The Market's self-deprecatory laughter sent small crea- began to put their oars in, demanding that I, the ‘mira-
tures racing up and down my spine. “Oh, that hoary old cle girl of the new millennium,’ be ‘repatriated’ to their
media sensation! I’m certain no one even remembers it nation rather than to another. Their claims were all
or has any interest in such old news any more.” equally valid or invalid, and no decision seemed possible.
“Are you kidding? A two-year-old found adrift on a “That was when the United Nations stepped in.
scrap of wreckage in the mid-Atlantic by a cruise ship. “By resolution of the Security Council, I was adopted
And then the controversy over your upbringing — ” by the United Nations. Every country in the world would
“Well, I suppose my early years were somewhat be my parent. I received the very first Universal Pass-
unusual.” port. And I was to be raised at the UN headquarters in
“Please, Adamina, tell me your impressions of them.” Geneva.
The Market thoughtfully chewed a mouthful of salad, “That’s where my actual memories begin.”
January 2003
Bare Market
The waiter had cleared our salad plates away earlier, ing system in the implant had a few glitches that I
and now brought us our dinners. My steak looked like some helped to fix.”
caveman’s butchery next to the Market’s abstemious scat- “But how did it come about that you began to focus
ter of shrimp, and I felt awkward once again. But the Mar- exclusively on rationalizing the world’s financial markets?”
ket smiled down at my choice, said, “That looks delicious,” “Well, what could have been more natural? After all,
and my brutish red-meat tastes were instantly sanctified. my Ph.D thesis concerned itself with maximizing mar-
I resumed our conversation after a few moments. “It ketplace efficiencies. At first I went into the digital rep-
must have been odd, being the only child in such a setting.” resentation of the market strictly as an observer. Even
“Oh, but. I wasn’t. The UN had a daycare centre for the that experience was incredible. I learned so much about
children of employees and delegates, so I spent a good how the market actually functions on a quantum level.
portion of my day with kids my own age. The only dif- After a few of my suggestions for improvements in trad-
ference was that they went home, and I didn’t. The ing procedures were implemented manually with good
Palais des Nations was my private castle. Whenever I results, I was allowed to start interacting directly
could, I slipped away from my minders to roam the through my wetware.”
grounds and buildings. Did you know that after visitors “And a year after that —”
are gone, the marble floors in the Salle des Pas Perdus “A year after that, for all practical purposes, I was the
offer excellent sliding when you're wearing socks?” Market.”
I laughed, picturing the Market as a young high-spir- Dessert arrived, as well as an espresso for me and
ited girl cutting loose amid such reverential splendour. decaf for the Market. I watched her sip her coffee while
“No, I can’t say I ever appreciated their utility for that I tried to compose my next question as delicately as I
sport. So I take it you had a happy childhood.” could. Finally, I decided just to be blunt.
“Absolutely. Although I sometimes feel it ended too “Weren't you afraid to insert yourself into the centre
abruptly.” of a system that billions of people relied on for their eco-
“You're referring to your precocious intellectual devel- nomic survival? I mean, wouldn’t you say that your
opment.” actions revealed quite a bit of arrogance and hubris?”
The Market sighed like a gentle Alpine zephyr. “Yes. The unflappable Market merely smiled benevolently at
I was reading at a ten-year-old’s level by age three. By me. “Not at all, Glen. You see, although the various inter-
five I spoke French, English, Spanish and Russian. Ger- locked markets that existed prior to my takeover were in
man and Chinese took me a little longer to pick up. My their primitive way a wonderful creation — perhaps the
guardians responded by accelerating my schooling so that most complex and efficient human system ever invented
I graduated with the equivalent of an American high- — they were still crude and buggy tools for putting capi-
school diploma at age eleven. I enrolled in the London tal to work. There was minimal coordination between
School of Economics and got my Ph.D four years later.” many of the parts of the system, and very little correla-
“And the Nobel in Economics?” tion of data or player intentions. Why, just the fact that
“T didn’t receive that honour until 2020.” no one thought to extend the theory of mutual funds to
“At age 17.” other investment options was shocking! And then there
“Correct.” was the problem of overt manipulation of the markets.”
The Market had recounted these accomplishments “You're talking about something like the scandals of
without false modesty or boastfulness, as if she had been the early years of the millennium. Or the Dreamworks
reciting a list of the streets of Geneva. Yet I did not get Recession of 2012.”
the impression that she was emotionally stunted. Far “Exactly. Crooks and conmen and unprincipled CEOs
from it. Her words seemed to float on a deep reservoir of were able to manipulate the market ruthlessly, inflating
humility, wisdom, empathy for others and appreciation prices of worthless stocks and driving healthy companies
for her own life. out of business. Scams and insider-trading sucked the
“It’s hard for me to imagine,” I confessed, “how you lifeblood out of the market, like parasites on a living
must have felt to reach such a pinnacle of success at so being. Regulatory bodies like the SEC and the few arti-
early an age.” ficially intelligent programs in place couldn’t catch more
The Market’s coral lips left a smudge on her champagne than a fraction of these schemes. And they certainly
flute. “A little frustrated, actually. There seemed to be no couldn’t help optimize the daily transaction flow. What
future goals for me to aspire to in my chosen field.” was needed for optimal functioning of the marketplace
“Which is why you offered yourself as the first human was a single arbiter and facilitator, a judge and nego-
subject for the MIT-Caltech wetware implant.” tiator, a coordinator and enforcer. That role required a
“Indeed. It was something no one else had ever done human mind trained in the subtlety of the market and
before. And it presented interesting, ah, possibilities.” in human motivations. A mind backed up by access to
“Recovery from the operation was fairly swift, I know. many additional teraflops of processing power. A unique
You were out of the hospital within a month. But mas- mind belonging to a human who had no attachments or
tering the biological-cybernetic interface took a bit longer, allegiances to any family or nation. And my mind was
I imagine.” the only one that fit the bill. There was no arrogance or
“Yes. It was a whole eight weeks before I felt confident hubris involved. Just a recognition that I had found the
in my abilities to surf cyberspace mentally. The operat- one all-important task I was destined to perform.”
8 interzone
Paul Di Filippo
I reached for my PDA and shut off its recording func- Market for a variety of ideological reasons. The 1929’ers,
tion. I found myself somewhat shaken by our conversa- the Anti-Souk League, the New Barterians, the Alan
tion. Perhaps finishing a whole bottle of wine on my own Greenspammers-— With the reduction in importance of
had contributed to my discomfort. The Market spoke physical trading establishments like Wall Street and the
from such an Olympian perspective that I felt buglike in London, Hong Kong, Moscow, Beijing, Rio and Tokyo
comparison. But paradoxically, her erotic allure that I exchanges, these terrorists had fallen back on virtual
had been attempting to deny and ignore all evening had attacks, attempting to disrupt the portions of cyberspace
only swelled in power. that the Market inhabited. Luckily, the Market’s bodily
“Well, Adamina, thank you for being so forthcoming. safety — like that of any other citizen — was guaranteed
I feel we're off to a good start. Pll see you tomorrow morn- by the various Homeland Security organizations of what-
ing at ten, as we planned?” ever country she happened to be residing in, without
“Certainly. The photoshoot should be fun.” resort to such obsolete safeguards as special squads of
With an elegant demand for our attention, the waiter bodyguards.
deftly slid the leather-jacketed bill onto the table. I reached And now, apparently, hidden hackers had launched one
for it, saying, “We'll let the magazine take care of this.” of their trademark virtual attacks.
The gesture was foolish, but I made it anyway. By uni- I dithered nervously while the Market did whatever
versal agreement, the Market was paid a salary pegged to she had to do to combat this threat. I called my editor,
the performance of her virtual counterpart and skimmed Zulma Soares, to fill her in on my progress, and learned
from every participating country. In 16 months she had that she had allotted another five pages to my article,
leapt onto the Forbes 1000, just below the guy who owned based on a recent poll of the Market’s popularity. Great.
the patents to the tabletop sono-fusion powerplant just More pressure.
going into production. Eventually the Market reappeared, apparently unruf-
“Of course,” said the Market, “Nuevo Vanity Fair can fled by her brush with disaster. “The virus is safely par-
well afford it.” titioned now. My support staff are analyzing it to guard
I shivered a bit, knowing that the Market’s words were against any such future incursions. We can resume.”
not merely a perfunctory courtesy. Shortly after that, the Market made another trip to the
She was certainly accessing NVF’s balance sheets as dressing room, emerging in her swimsuit.
we spoke. That was when I nearly lost it. Up till then, I had man-
aged to keep my lust for the Market somewhat hidden
The Market killed in a bikini. and in check. Berating myself for unprofessionalism and
The tiny scraps of fabric (displaying fragmented surface idiotic, impossible daydreams, I left the room, determined
animations of their designer’s latest Paris runway show) to stay outside until my excitement grew less visible.
revealed nearly all of the glorious body I had fantasized The physical evidence of my adolescent delusions had
about at dinner last night. As the photographer — a short just vanished when the Market herself tapped me on the
stocky fellow with longish blonde hair and an annoying shoulder. She wore loose linen pants, a white blouse with
bark of a voice — directed the Market to assume various three-quarter sleeves that flounced at their edges, and
fairly demure showgirl poses, I had to turn away to hide sandals. A straw hat sloped back atop her thick fall of
my erection. unrestrained silvery hair.
The shoot had started innocently enough, with the Mar- “Glen, is everything okay?”
ket modelling various gowns and casual outfits. Adamina “Fine, fine, I just had to, uh, attend to a call of nature.”
Smythe exhibited a natural grace and self-possession. She “How did you think the photo session went?”
let the stylists and makeup techs interminably fuss “Perfect. They'll use one of the swimsuit shots on the
around her without growing irritable or weary. She took cover, you know. Does that bother you?”
direction from the photographer well, and didn’t wilt “Why should it?”
under the hot lights. Even granting that she had been at “You don’t mind exposing yourself like that to millions
the centre of incredible media attention during the past of strangers?”
17 years, her performance was remarkable. “No, of course not. It’s just my body, after all. Every-
Only at one point had the Market called a halt to the one’s got one. But I really don’t understand people’s inter-
proceedings. After blinking rapidly for several seconds, est in such things. I’m already such an intimate part of
she said, “We need to stop now for a minute or so, please.” their lives, it seems almost redundant for them to be fas-
Solicitous as a nursemaid, I rushed up to her side with cinated by what I look like.”
a bottle of water. “Is everything all right? Are you getting “That — that is almost a nonhuman attitude.”
tired? Do you have a headache?” There it was. I had said one of the things that I had
“No. It’s just that I’ve just been attacked by a really been holding back from saying. But there was no avoid-
bad virus. I need to concentrate.” ing the topic now, so I pressed ahead in somewhat con-
The Market retreated to the dressing room, and every- tentious adversarial reporter mode.
one took a break for coffee or snacks or a smoke. “Do you feel truly human, Adamina, after all your
Despite the world’s growing widespread prosperity, a modifications? Did you ever think that possibly you’re
few international dissidents to the new order still some sort of alien, planted among us?”
skulked beneath the burnished woodwork, opposed to the Completely unfazed, the Market just shrugged. “This
January 2003 9
Bare Market
is something I’ve thought about for a long time, Glen. But just so gracious and selfless, so transparent and good-
how would I know whether I feel human or not? I know hearted that the effusive praise did not bloat her, but
what my interior life is like, but how do I decide whether instead seemed to pass through her. She was a two-way
my mental states are comparable to the human norm? conduit for power from above and gratitude from below.
How do any of us know we feel the same emotions others One evening I told her about all these thoughts, and
feel, or think the same way? It’s like seeing colour. When she just smiled mysteriously and said, “Giving and
I say something’s red, and you agree, are we really see- receiving are just two sides of the same coin.”
ing the same colour? You just can’t know. As for literally Somehow this sentiment lost its triteness coming from
being an alien or some kind of spontaneous or engineered the Market’s lips.
mutant, of course I’ve thought about the possibility. My The Market and I continued our professional dialogue
strange origin after all might be a clever charade, a in any number of locations and circumstances. I learned
means of inserting me into human society for some nefar- more than I ever wanted to know about the intricacies
ious purpose. But all I can tell you is that every medical of the world’s economy. If I never heard the words “arbi-
test so far reveals me to be completely human. And I don’t trage,” “debenture,” “munis,” or “futures” again, it would
have any hidden allegiances to the Tentacled Flesh Eaters be too soon. Truth to tell, the Market could be kind of a
from Mizar Five.” drone sometimes.
The Market laughed, and I did too, out of relief. “Okay, The Market had a healthy appetite and a moderate
then, I’m glad that awkward bit’s out of the way. I taste for luxury, and I ate more fancy meals than I usu-
wouldn't have been much of a reporter if I didn’t ask, and ally indulge in. At the end of a week, I was having trou-
I hope you'll excuse my impertinence.” ble bonding the stik-tite closures on my pants. Finally,
“You're excused. Now, it’s a beautiful day out there, and however, we began to run out of things to talk about, and
I haven't been in New York in the past six months. Let’s my deadline was imminent. Zulma was pressing me to
walk around al ittle and then grab some lunch.” see a first draft of the piece, so she could start thinking
Out on the sidewalk, I spontaneously offered the Mar- about pull-quotes. But I still hadn’t broached my second
ket my hand. Her fingers grazed mine briefly, imparting awkward question on an essential topic — a topic that
a little friendly pressure before she withdrew them, but Zulma had specifically enjoined me to tackle.
all my doubts about her humanity vanished. I decided at last to confront the Market over lunch on
what would be the final day of our time together.
Over the next several days I was not out of the Market’s After the waiter had taken our orders, I asked, “Tell
company for more than the regular hours devoted to our me, Adamina, do you ever think about sex?”
separate sleeping. Much of that time we spent in public The Market did not respond immediately. And was
places, and I was startled by the reactions of the average that a faint blush suffusing her cheeks?
people who recognized her. That walk after the photo “Oh, I’m sorry, Glen. Some drudgester just posted news
shoot had first introduced me to her adoring fans. of a big water-strike on Mars and the NASDAQ went
Every few feet we moved down the Manhattan side- through the ceiling. What was that question again?”
walks people stopped the Market, just to say hello or The NASDAQ and Dow Jones functioned like the Mar-
smile wordlessly or thank her or ask for her autograph. ket’s temperature or EKG. I would guess that such a
Men and women of all ages and classes responded spike might represent a fever or a case of heart arrhyth-
equally to her, although of course among the males there mia in a mere mortal. For the first time it occurred to me
was that extra component of slack-jawed sexual attrac- that the unverifiable demands her job made on the Mar-
tion. I found myself getting jealous of the guys, until I ket’s attention could also serve as a convenient excuse not
forced myself to remember that I had no particular claim to hear something. But I was not to be rebuffed.
on the Market’s attention. “T asked about your feelings on sex. Specifically, how
Nor did any man. does it feel to be a virgin at your age, with no prospect of
People with children made a big point of explaining to ever experiencing normal physical love?”
their kids who the Market was and what she did and “What do you want me to say, Glen? That the situation
how she was responsible for all the good things this doesn’t bother me? I told you I was physiologically
youngest generation enjoyed as unquestioned appurte- human in all respects. But I simply can’t indulge in sex.
nances to their privileged lives. The kids reacted with The hormonal and neural and endocrinal turmoil that
wide-eyed admiration and reverence. intercourse involves would wreak havoc with my wet-
After a while, I felt like I was second-in-command to the ware. My connection with the market — well, as the
leader of some cult out for a stroll among the faithful. To experts love to say, ‘Results would be unpredictable.’ So
witness any other person I had ever met as the focus of do I obsess about this lack or limitation in my life until
such adoration would have struck me as repugnant. I I’m miserable? Or do I just accept it as part of who I am,
would have labelled the object of all this reverence — CEO and concentrate on what I do best and on all the rewards
or famous politician, Bollywood starlet or world-class sci- it brings to me and the rest of the world? It’s not so
entist, religious leader or famed solar-sail racer — as an unusual, is it? After all, I wouldn’t be the first person to
insufferable egotist, soaking up the ignorant worship of choose celibacy as an aid to a higher goal, would I?”
the masses. But something about the Market’s pristine I felt like a louse, and decided to cut the thread short.
demeanour negated any such harsh judgment. She was “Fair enough, Adamina. I’m sure you realize that our
10